Freckles
by lauraxxx
Summary: One-Shot. Carrie's job bores her, until Dean Ambrose walks in.


**Just a little playfulness between Dean and a bored barmaid.**

Carrie Anderson had her back to the bar she was supposed to be tending as she pointed a remote control at the old box like Television set that sat high up in the corner of the dusty bar; she frowned slightly as she stared at the ancient set willing it with her mind to change channel and relieve her of her insane boredom. It was a quiet night, only three of the regular patrons strewn around the place barely demanding her attention as they nursed their treasured alcohol within their trembling hands, and she was pretty certain the night wasn't going to get any busier.

She'd earn more in tips delivering the morning paper, she thought irately as she waved the remote control in the air, the channel still not changing much to her frustration.

The bar was never wild or filled with people, sometimes she wondered how the hell the place hadn't shut down, but year after year the door's stayed open, and year after year she promised herself she'd get a better job. It's not that it was the worst job she'd ever had, it wasn't by far, it just at times got tediously boring. The bar was situated not far from the strip but not close enough that tourists or party goers would find it, most of the customers were people from the neighbourhood who just wanted a cold one after a hard day in work, or a few pitchers on a Saturday afternoon whilst their wives took their children to soccer whilst they were meant to be mowing the lawn, before rushing home hoping to God that they wouldn't get caught.

"Can I get a beer, freckles?" A familiar gravelly voice echoed across the bar.

Carrie turned to find Dean Ambrose sitting on one of the stools, a peak hat hiding his dishwater curls, a leather jacket covering his broad shoulders. Carrie tried to hide the wide smile that she could feel stretching across her face as she slowly sauntered towards the bar, tucking a strand of chestnut brown hair behind her ear as she leaned down and pulled out a bottle of Heineken.

"Well look what the cat dragged in," she said her as he smiled at her whilst chewing gum, his blue eyes glistening. "I didn't expect to see you for at least another couple of weeks, you off work again?" She joked, knowing his schedule was a nightmare.

"Ha-Ha, you're very funny," he said putting the beer to his lips, his elbow resting on the bar.

She finally smiled widely. "I'm just saying," she shrugged, "it must be nice to only work Part-time."

"Shit, can't a guy get a beer on Christmas eve in his local watering hole in peace," he teased. "Even a super sexy mega star like me gets Christmas off, doll."

Carrie laughed softly leaning down on the bar, her elbow resting down and her chin falling into her hand. "I think you're mistaking yourself for Roman Reigns, Ambrose."

Dean smirked, pulling his hat off and tossing it on the bar carelessly, running his hand through his tousled curls. "Ahhh," he said taking a deep swig of his beer. "It all makes sense now. You like the dark brooding types, huh? The long hair and the tattoos? I'm not pretty enough for you, huh. That's why you've been rejecting me for all these years?" He chewed teasingly slow on his gum, his eyes alight with amusement. "You're killing me, you know that?" She stood up straight quietly laughing. "And now you're laughing at me, you've cut me deep."

"You're mistaking me for someone who gives a damn," she bit her lower lip suggestively.

Dean raised his balled fist to his heart. "You've hurt me, freckles." He drained his beer, though Carrie could see he was still smiling as the liquid poured down his throat.

Bending over she pulled out another beer, removed the cap and placed it down in front of him before taking away the empty bottle. Carrie watched him take another swig of his beer before pulling out a bottle of water from under the bar and placed it to her lips. She could feel Dean's eyes on her and as she placed the bottle down and licked her lower lip she could see that his eyes were filled with hunger; he ran a thumb across his lower lip as he watched her, a half smirk pulling gently across his face.

They'd played this game for years, ever since Dean had moved to Vegas and had turned up at the bar one night. They'd flirt shamelessly with one another, and playfully mock each other, until Dean would toss down some notes for his tab, always leaving a nice tip and she wouldn't see him for another month. Dean made Carrie feel wanted, and Carrie made Dean feel normal. She hadn't dropped her panties and begged him to let her please him, she wasn't shy and bashful and false. She just treated him as if he were any normal guy that she found attractive that was hitting on her, she obviously enjoyed it, but she didn't drop to her knees desperate to be around him. Carrie enjoyed him while he was there, but she was fine when he wasn't.

"Come on; let's not play this game again. Come home with me tonight, I'll make it the best Christmas you've ever fucking had," he cockily bragged. "They don't call me the Titty Master for nothing."

Carrie grinned. "Oh yeah? I heard it was because one look at a pair of tits and poof," she opened her hands up mimicking an explosion. "You're all finished." She smiled sweetly at him.

"Come home with me tonight and I'll show you that that is not true," he nodded lifting his bottle before putting it back down.

"You forgot I've got a six year old boy waiting for me at home," she placed her hands on her hips. "It might make my Christmas but it sure as hell won't make his when he wakes up to find that Santa hasn't been and his sitter's still there."

Dean smiled. "Even better. I bet the kid will be fucking ecstatic if he wakes up to find Dean Ambrose passed out under the tree."

Carrie tilted her head to the side and pretended to be deep in thought. "I think he'd ask why he had to get you and not Dolph Ziggler," she said before turning to take payment off another customer.

"Ouch," Dean grumbled out a laugh.

Carrie spoke briefly to the old man that was paying his tab before wishing him a merry Christmas. She turned went to the register, her back to Dean, she put the notes in then slammed it shut turning and waltzing cockily back over to her favourite customer.

"You should stop by on your way home from work tonight, I've got loads of WWE stuff the kid can have. They give me shit loads of DVD's and figurines and shit," he rambled. "I've got a present for you, too." He winked suggestively.

Carrie laughed out loud. "This is sexual harassment."

"I don't hear you complaining."

She bit her lip softly. "No you don't."

"Did I tell you how good your arse looks in those jeans?" He poked his tongue out slightly.

"You're a perv, Ambrose." She leaned forward, unintentionally giving him a great view of her cleavage, and slapped his hand playfully. Dean used this as an opportunity to curl his long fingers around her wrist softly but firm enough to hold her there. She smiled teasingly slow up at him, her brown doe eyes sweet and innocent.

"Seriously," Dean's voice was an almost croak. "Let me come home with you."

"No means no, Ambrose," Carrie whispered looking into his lustful eyes.

Dean continued to look into her wide eyes hungrily for several seconds before finally letting go of her wrist and a wide grin stretched across his face, his dimples showing, as he stood slowly pulling his wallet out of his back pocket. He opened his wallet and tossed a couple of notes down on the bar, his eyes still watching Carrie.

"That's okay, I'm a patient man," he said. "I'll get you to say yes someday," he said smiling as he took several steps backwards.

Carrie shrugged nonchalantly. "Maybe, maybe not."

Dean poked his tongue out of his mouth as he continued to walk backwards. "Happy Holidays, freckles," he said with a wink before turning and leaving for another month.

**I hope you liked? Please please leave a review and let me know what you think. It would mean the world to me, honestly.**


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